Bell was halfway up the second flight when I caught the lower rail. Above him, Esther stood in the shop doorway holding one end of a tied bundle. A young worker supported the other end. They could not see Bell until he rounded the landing, and he was moving too quickly for a visit. I called his name. He glanced down, recognized me, and kept climbing. I took the narrow inside of the turn, driving upward with my good hand on the rail.
I reached the landing as Esther stepped back to let the bundle through. Bell put a foot on the last stair. I moved across it before him, with my shoulder toward the shop rather than my face. Behind me the young worker stopped. His bundle struck the doorjamb with a dull thump. Esther told him to keep hold. I heard her voice clearly, and it steadied me more than a promise of help would have. She was still conducting her own business.
“Move, Sam,” Bell said. “They're working.” “So move.” He put his palm against my chest and shoved. My heel slipped over the stair edge. I caught the rail with my injured hand before I remembered not to use it. Pain shot to my elbow. Bell stepped closer, expecting the space to open. Instead I set my other foot flat against the landing and turned sideways. There was room for a bundle to pass behind me, but not for him to stride through.
Esther lowered her end onto a stool inside. She did not ask me to protect her. She called for Feld, then took another worker's place at the bundle. I looked over my shoulder long enough to see them lift it together. Bell tried to follow my glance around my body. I shifted back. My coat caught a nail in the rail, and the cloth tore when he shoved again. Downstairs, someone protested that we were blocking the way. A customer was waiting below.
“You used to know where to stand,” Bell said. He caught my sleeve above the elbow. There was a time when that grip would have meant I should follow him without questions. I took his wrist in my left hand. His shoe skidded against the rounded edge of the step. For an instant his weight came into my arm, and I knew I could pull him down. The stairwell was open behind him. I let go and flattened my palm against the wall.
Bell grabbed the rail and steadied himself. My release had left my chest uncovered; he struck it with his shoulder and drove me into the plaster. I lost my breath. Behind me, the bundle scraped through the narrow opening we had left. Esther and the worker carried it to the upper landing and set it down clear of our feet. Nobody cheered. A woman inside said sharply that there were three more to move before the customer could take them.
Feld came to the doorway carrying his shop apron in both hands. He looked at Bell, then at the torn cloth dangling from the rail. I expected him to ask us both outside, to make no distinction and call that fairness. Instead he stepped past my shoulder. “You aren't coming in,” he told Bell. His voice cracked on the last word. Bell stared at him. Feld spread the apron between his hands, twisted it once, and remained where he was.
Two workers joined Feld, leaving space between themselves for the next bundle. They did not arm themselves or close around Bell. They simply occupied their own doorway. Esther brought out the finished work, and I pressed against the wall to let it pass. Bell had to retreat a step to avoid its weight. The customer below shouted again. Feld called down that the order was coming. It was a small answer, but it changed the landing: the shop had business other than us.
Bell looked from one face to the next. “All right,” he said, though nothing in his expression suggested agreement. He backed to the turn, straightened his coat, and went down. I stayed against the plaster until his footsteps reached the street. Then I followed far enough to see him leave the building. I could not know whether he would return. I knew only that he had gone without entering the floor, and that I had not been appointed to keep it that way.
When I climbed back, the workers were carrying the last bundle down. I took its lower corner until they reached the customer, then surrendered it when asked. Upstairs, Feld had gone to his accounts. Esther inspected a loosened cord and tied it again. Nobody offered me Bell's old chair or asked me to watch the stairs. I retrieved the strip of my coat from the nail, folded it into my pocket, and stepped aside so a girl with a broom could sweep the landing.